Another Time: Recorded in Hope
by daeshie o'rivers
Summary: A story of another time, a familiar place, and false security that was going to vanish. My job, here and through, is to make sure this story doesn’t slip out of our grasp as did many others. If so, all hope is lost.
1. Narrated by Albus Dumbledore

A story of another time, a familiar place, and false security that was going to vanish. My job, here and through, is to make sure this story doesn't slip out of our grasp as did many others. If so, all hope is lost.

It started, as most stories (though I use the term loosely here seeing as this should not by any means be interpreted as some fictional bedtime story) do, somewhere. This somewhere was named Godric's Hollow. This somewhere was also a village in England.

Godric's Hollow was by most means an ordinary village. It had it's gossips, and bakers, it's lawn-mowing husbands, and homemaker wives. However, one thing did differentiate Godric's Hollow from the usual village in England. It was a magical place.

Oh, no no! Not magical in the sense that it was beautiful or sparkly or the way the word is used on vacation pamphlets. It was magical in the sense of wand-waving, spell-casting, and pointed hats above magical-being's heads.

Before we go on, I must clear something up. This magic was also _not _the kind of pulling rabbits out of hats, or card tricks where the ace was really up the "magician's" (another loosely used term) sleeve. It was the magic of innate abilities, shunned squibs, transfiguration, and butterbeer. Yes, it was _that _kind of magic.

This story also had another usual thing in it, people. Unfortunately, the people introduced at this stage of my telling will not…in softer words…be here for the continuation. One will though, and this one, will be the survivor, the boy-who-_lived. _

Or as he would later rather be called, Harry, just Harry.

…..

…..

Oh, dear, I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I. Well, do let me clear it up with the following:

James Potter and his wife Lilly were very happy. The action of this story takes place on a bright Friday morning when a boy was born. _If _you have been paying attention you should have grasped hold on whom this boy is by now.

There, proud as could be, were the parents, James and Lilly, with Lilly (having finished her pushing and screaming of words that aren't very appropriate) holding her baby son. Little did they know what would happen, that is what I would say if it were true. However, it is not. They knew of a possibility delivered to them by the most powerful wizard of the century, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. A possibility they would try their hardest to pretend they knew not of.

"Ignorance is bliss" they think remorsefully. And indeed it is, but not a very safe bliss. "A bliss of unknown danger, and precaution not taken" says I. To humor myself, I will say that I am right, whether or not that is true, you may decide.

_That_, is why they are in the aforementioned village of Godric's Hollow, hidden to all but one, who would, as human's tend to do, betray them. That is why the boy-who-lived would get such a name, for he _did_ live, and against some of the most unusual and death-defying (pun intended) circumstances. So he lived, and they did not, as is the way of life. But my life is to tell you, in my own round-about way, of his…

"_Time goes, you say? Alas, no, time stays, we go" – Albus Dumbledore_

"Y-yes, master, it-t will b-be done" quivered a rat, in all meanings, while kneeling on a cold stone floor somewhere in Siberia.

Master's (though I loath to use that term for such a disgusting, foul being) heart had something in common with the floor, it was also cold and made of stone. Irony to the details.

The rat was the pivotal point in this "story". He was the one that made the-boy-who-lived the boy-who-lived; the one who made his parents the ones-who-died (honorably, of course). He was the murder in all accounts but the deed. His name was Peter Pettigrew, and he would be sentenced by fates to 12 years as a pet rat to red-haired boys as some sort of ironic punishment. Fate and Irony, quite a pair they are.

Master, who's former name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, had red eyes. He was a leader to some of the most evil beings, and feared by all (or so he liked to think). He was thin, and was colored with an unnaturally white pallor. His fingers were long, and would later be though of as reminiscent of a spider's legs.

Pettigrew turned slightly, and bowed his way out of the room, but before he could escape, a Crucio was cast upon him.

Pain-filled screams will end this chapter.


	2. Just ChockFull of Surprises

"If you can't beat them, join them; unless, of course, they are a group of blood-thirsty, homicidal maniacs in white masks and black robes trying to kill you. In that case, you keep on trying to beat them."

Harry J. Potter

Screams, the quiet rustle of wind, and a flash of ominous green light; that was all that was left, a memory. A memory, such an indescribable thing. Harry Potter had lots of memories. He had his memory of winning the quidditch cup, his memory of flying a car to school, and a memory of his first birthday present, but he also had _other _memories.

Memories that would terrify the strongest of men, and send the most powerful to tears; memories that were horrible to recount, yet must or would turn your mind against you.

Harry Potter had lots of _those _memories too. But, as most would, he much preferred the nicer ones about such trivial things as eating his first pumpkin pasty.

He got up from his place in the grass, and carefully picked up his book _Martial Arts Assists Magical Flow? The Theories _by Horatio Frumler. It had been a birthday present from Hermione, accompanied with a note of how he shouldn't sulk too much and to start his homework.

Harry snorted, if only Hermione knew just how busy Harry had been. Coming home last June, he had decided that the only way to get over it and stop worrying was to get active.

The dark haired boy practically heard Hagrid's booming voice all over again saying "What's going to 'appen, will 'appen. An' ther's no use worryin' 'bout it 'till it does"

'But you can get ready for it' Harry silently added. And Harry _had_ gotten ready. It seemed that a magical bookstore in Winchester received Owl Orders, and that Dudley had some old weights in the basement.

"Get over here, boy!" came his aunt's voice, in its usual high screeching tone.

He rubbed his ear, as if in silent apology that it would have to suffer with Aunt Petunia's screeches and Uncle Vernon's bellows.

Taking off his dirty tennis shoes at the door, Harry came in to the usual sight. His relatives (as much as he loathed the fact) seated at the breakfast table waiting for him to prepare breakfast for them. Uncle Vernon was reading the newspaper 'As if he can read,' thought Harry, mentally smirking. Dudley say, piggy as ever and taking up most of the table, eyes glued to the television screen as if it held the answer to life. Aunt Petunia, however, was at the window; peeking through the blinds and the next door neighbors, making some indignant sound at the fact that their grass remained green throughout the drought that had returned this summer.

Harry walked over to the refrigerator, going through the same routine that he had practiced since an early age. The Order's threat hadn't done anything to quench the Dursley's work-the-magic-out-of-him-attitude. He doubted that the whole incident had even gotten through their thick skulls. Still probably thought that they were talking to Harry or something.

He had tried his hardest, and come to sad terms with Sirius' death. As much as he hated it, he knew that it was simply life, and the only thing to do was to try his darn hardest to get Voldemort. That is what Sirius would have wanted; after all, he always was more of a "do it" kind of guy. Harry fondly remembered his bark-like laugh, and how whenever wet would shake it off like a dog. How he would glare at the mention of Pettigrew (here in this thought stream Harry issued a string of curses) and make him smile when no-one else could. He had gotten over it, as well as one might such an occurrence, and he knew that he wouldn't forget.

Careful not to trip over a small rug, he deposited the food onto their table, smirking at Dudley who had managed to tear his eyes away from the TV screen long enough to give Harry a fearful glance. Taking his own rations of scrambled eggs sandwiched by toast, he went back upstairs, careful to take his book from the hallway table.

Jumping up the steps, two or three at a time, he ambled upstairs, to finish the book and get on with his practice. He remembered to call out behind him where he sensed his 'watcher':

"Hey, Tonks!"

Harry heard a crash and Tonks had no doubt tripped over something in shock.

The Boy-Who-Lived was just full of surprises.


	3. Aspirito Castello

DISCLAIMER: not mine, well..i wrote it but the characters aren't mine. Okay, some aspects of the character's OOC'ness _is _mine but just don't sue me!  
The Un-Awaited Update!  
Read on!

CHAPTER 3

Without even turning around, he closed the door behind him and muttered towards the left of him "Hey, professor, I seem to be very popular with you guys this evening, eh?"

Remus Lupin rolled his eyes, "Kingsley is still laughing about your comment to Dudley"

"Which one, professor, the one about me enchanting the garden gnomes to kill him in his sleep, or the one about the apple strudel?"

"Neither," replied the werewolf, "it was the one about him getting eaten by the cow that wanted revenge, and stop calling me professor, I haven't been your teacher for three years!"

"I aim to entertain." Commented Harry wryly as he passed half of his breakfast to Lupin. "And what am I supposed to call you," Here he adopted an oily, condescending tone not unlike Snape's, "werewolf?"

Remus choked on his sandwich and coughed loudly, "cough, you can always call me moony," he choked out between coughs that sounded suspiciously like laughter, "and don't let sniv-_Snape _hear you!

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "So, what's going on back at the grill?" This was Harry's new nickname for the Order of the Phoenix.

Remus' eyes darkened and he smoothed his robes nervously, "Ron's gone haywire" he muttered"

"Like I didn't see that coming," grumbled Harry while patting the space next to him on the bed, "sit down…"

Remus took a seat while speaking; "We think it might be imperious."

"Trust me, it isn't. I always saw it coming. Could you give Hermione this?"

Remus took the envelope and placed it in an inner pocket in his robes, nodding distractedly.

The raven-haired boy narrowed his eyes at Lupin, "Remus, is there some type of enchantment on you, a secrecy spell?"

The ex-professor's eyes widened comically, and had it not been such a serious situation Harry would've laughed.

Harry's brow furrowed, and he pulled out his wand, "Could I see something?"

Remus nodded mutely, hands wringing in his lap.

"Finite Incantatum Apirito Castello" muttered Harry while swishing his wand around Remus' fingers.

The older man's mouth popped open and he gasped, rubbing his wrist gingerly, "That's not supposed to work!"

Harry shrugged, "Is it gone?" he asked, referring to the secrecy bonding spell that had been based on the werewolf's right wrist.

Lupin's eyes glazed as he searched through his mind for the tell-tale thread of magic that was the secrecy spell. His vacant eyes suddenly snapped back to the present and he looked at Harry in what could only be called pure awe. Harry glared.

"So is it gone or what?" he snapped.

Remus nodded and grinned widely, pulling Harry in for a hair-tussle. "You did it Harry! I'm not quite sure what you did, but you sure as hell did it!"

Harry freed his head from Lupin's grasp, and took in a deep breath. "Moony, I've been keeping a few things from you…"

TBC

what did you think?

Remember the button! V (down there!)


	4. Silencio

"_Mooney, I've been keeping a few things from you…"_

The Marauder snuck him a knowing glance, mulling over his bite of egg. "Harry," he started off slowly, "I'm not dim, you know."

Harry made a motion as if to interrupt but the werewolf continued.

"No average student would be able to learn the Patronus Charm in third year."

"But I was able to teach them to do it in fifth year!"

Remus sighed and shook his head, "Harry, Cub, Prongslet; that was after their magical majority."

"Their magical what!"

The elder man stared. "Dumbledore didn't tell you?"

"Well…Dumbledore isn't a very forthcoming man, mind you."

Remus nodded and stared at the ceiling for inspiration, "okay….if I ever see you again Sirius I'll kill you for making me do this. Muggles explain this as puberty, when children have growth spurts and mature- don't interrupt. Well…wizards do the same thing…but not only do they physically grow, their magic grows too. Fortunately (I think), since wizards aren't affected by the same chemicals as muggles their magical majority happens, average, between their fourth and fifth year. Seeing as you lived with these muggles (here Remus sent a withering glare at the door), I could understand that you would have had it just recently."

Harry flushed and nodded, looking intently at the worn hardwood between his scuffed trainers.

"So we could both understand that, as you started off as a relatively powerful wizard, after the 110 increase during your majority you would be-"

"Scary?" offered Harry.

"Well, I was going to say beyond the scale, but if that sparks your wand."

"Mooney?" Harry's voice was small, with a little underlining of steel. "I can---I don't know what---these things keep happening! Why?"

Remus gave him an equally lost look. "We need help," he said finally.

The Kodak moment was broken by a harsh knock on the door. "BOY! Get your lazy-freak-arse down here and mow the lawn."

Harry smiled wryly and gestured to the doorknob, "Duty calls!"

The amber-eyed man shook his head "we're getting you out of here, _I'm_ getting you out of here."

Harry had already departed.

()-()-()

A small ribbon of drool sulked down the window as our wizard slept. He woke with a start, as pops echoed outside. In seconds Potter was up, clutching his wand. He squinted through said window at the black robes and white masks outside.

Thumps of running through the hall as he sent the strongest locking charms he knew at all the doors and windows. The sound was repeated as he sent a temporary silencing ward and screamed at the top of his lungs, "WAKE UP!"

There was a grunt and high squeal, and Vernon showed up in his robe…only his robe. If Harry hadn't been on what Hermione called "war-mode" he would've either thrown up violently or go into cardiac arrest. "BOY! What is the meaning of this?"

Harry's eyes shone defiantly, "He's here" he said in a low, murky tone.

Petunia's voice piped in from the master bedroom doorway. "H-he? Voldomiert?"

Harry didn't have time to smirk at the pronouncing more than muggles had magic.. "Yes- Dudley! Get your fat-arse out here!"

Dudley waddled out of the bathroom blearily. "What's happening?" his voice shook as he saw his parents fearful eyes.

"Get into my room!" Harry ordered. His uncle opened his mouth to interrupt but Harry overrode him, "It's the one with the smallest window! GET IN THERE!"

The Dursley's obediently filed in and Harry sent 5 locking and warding charms at the door; flicking his wand at the window he charmed it so it was one-way. A quick "incendio" and "conjuro" later and Harry had a controlled floo fire going on in front of his desk.

There was a patter of fists against the downstairs door and Harry quickened his pleas, "Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, anyone!" The green face of the potions master showed up. "What is it Potter? My mark is burning- mind-"

Harry interrupted, "Great, Professor. There are hordes of death eaters through the wards and I've got my relatives with me. Get the bloody order here before I blast their brains myself."

Snape nodded, the effect looking eerie in green flames, and whispered "ever talk to me like that again potter and I'll…" Harry ignored him and ended the floo call.

He turned to his speechless relatives and nodded, "if anything should happen, call those names again."

He looked up at the ceiling, and prayed, then clicked himself to the other side of the door.

-------------------

CLIFFIE! Not that anyone will care! Fix my complex by pressing the happy button below

Button: you know you want to…I'm so approachable…

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS FROM THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

-daeshie-


End file.
